Love Has No Boundaries
by FanFicLove101
Summary: My First longer story! MM/HG, let me know what you think? Minerva has to let go.
1. Chapter 1

_I own none of these characters, only the way in which my imagination portrays them!_

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**Love Has No Boundaries.**_  
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**Chapter One.**

_Love is a mutual feeling. One would do anything for the other, and vice versa. It is a feeling of loyalty and truth, a feeling that is as if no one could feel but you. It has no boundaries, no limitations and is open and grand. It bears happiness and sadness, difficulty and ease, and is the joy and bane of life._

Minerva's mothers words swam her head each morning, echoing against her skull, making her head shake in irritation. Every evening, as Alana McGonagall tucked her daughter into bed, she would recite the exact same words that haunted Minerva as an adult. Love was a strong bond in the McGonagall family, and both Mother and Father wished their daughter to be happy. From a young age she was taught about the feelings of love between a man and a woman, husband and wife. Minerva looked solidly through her 7 years at Hogwarts, growing from infant to teenager to young woman, for the love her mother had taught her. She left Hogwarts alone, as she had entered it. Minerva was strong headed and always knew what she wanted. She was in control of her mind and emotions, and she thought this was to why she hadn't found the love her parents had wanted for her.

Minerva McGonagall wanted women. It was as simple and as hard as that, just as her Mother had predicted. She didn't want the strapping husband, the one who provided and protected. She wanted the tender touch of a female, whom she could share with and protect each other. She had loved, and lost at Hogwarts, but she couldn't admit this to her parents, too afraid and ashamed as to what she had become.

Minerva never did tell. Anyone.

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_A/N: Don't know whether to carry on with this, I just have so many thoughts in my head at the moment, I want to get them all down! Let me know!_


	2. Chapter 2

_I own none of these characters, only the way in which my imagination portrays them!_

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**Chapter Two.**

Minerva's teaching years at Hogwarts had been long yet rewarding. Although her new thrust upon occupation as headmistress was due to Albus' death, she felt a sense of pride in how far she had come. Never as a teenager would she have dreamt of one day sitting in the glorious office that housed all of her predecessors. Sat behind her desk, the large chair swamping her thin figure, she scribbled a quick reply to Molly Weasley's invitation to 'The Second Order Christmas Dinner Get Together', stating she would most certainly be attending.

Watching the owl take flight with her note, Minerva rubbed her forehead wearily with the palm of her right hand, her left resting on her hip. She sighed heavily, the air exhaled from her mouth misting slightly on the cold glass of the window. It had been nearly a year since she had been to a social occasion, finding time difficult to obtain. Hogwarts had been left a mess after the great battle and needed all of Minerva's time and attention to repair. She was tired and longing for her bed, but determined to have an evening of light hearted fun rather than sitting alone thinking, she donned her sleek black dress robes and left before she had a chance to change her mind.

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Minerva looked up at the pub that was spilling noises of enjoyed festivities. The Wands Wish was dingy and old; however the light and laughter from within brought a small smile to Minerva's face. Patting down her robes, she entered the pub, warmth rushing over her causing her arms to be covered in goose pimples. As Minerva closed the door quietly, Molly Weasley caught sight of her, immediately pushing her chair backward and running into Minerva's arms.

"I was so worried you wouldn't come. Where have you been? We all wondered whether to come and look for you..."

"I'm fine Molly, really. I just had some things to do back at Hogwarts."

Molly gave Minerva a raised eyebrow and sympathetic look: Minerva knew that all of her friends thought she worked much too hard as headmistress, stressing herself with needless things. But this is what she had become, and she had a duty to herself to fulfil things she thought were necessary. Molly beckoned for her to sit, an empty chair placed along the side of a long, narrow table. As the crowd realised Minerva's appearance, a loud cheer echoed throughout the otherwise empty pub. She sat gracefully, smirking to everyone who caught her eye in appreciation for the warm welcome. Her tumbler began to fill with scotch, courtesy of Arthur Weasley, when Minerva's eyes fell on the woman sat opposite her. Her hair in tight ringlets fell down over her shoulders and just below her breasts, longer than it had ever been; it shone in the candlelight, making it seem as if it were dancing. Her makeup was apparent but slight, only enhancing her features as to covering them. Her lips were covered in a rosy lipstick and then coated with a smear of lip balm to cause a shimmering effect. She wore fitted dress robes in deep purple, a plunging neck line revealing only a little cleavage so as to be noticed, but not to be distasteful. She smiled and joined in the banter that was constant, throwing her head back when she laughed, the wine settled in her goblet apparently taking an effect. She'd lift it to her lips, take a small amount in her mouth and savour the taste, placing the goblet back on the rough wooden table to finger delightfully around the beautiful pattern that surrounded the rim. Her eyes fell on Minerva as she gawped.

"Good evening Professor, I am so glad that you came."

"Hermione Granger... It is a pleasure to see you too." Minerva replied, lifting her glass to toast to the events of the night ahead.

She sipped the scotch, never taking her eyes away from Hermione, who too was swigging from her goblet.

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Minerva listened to the cheery conversation all night, too tired to join in but enjoying herself none the less. She leant her chin on her right hand looking down at the table, when she felt a foot brush hers. Minerva decided to ignore this; the drink had been flowing freely, and even in a sober situation one always did catch the foot or leg of the person opposite the table. But again, a foot brushed hers, this time trailing a path up to her shin. Minerva leant back to look under the table, placing her hands on the wooden surface to steady herself. The black Mary-Jane shoes were swinging, legs crossed. She looked up at Hermione who was smiling,

"Sorry Professor. I've been trying to catch your attention for 10 minutes now but you couldn't hear me."

Minerva settled herself back in her chair, her heart thundering against her chest,

"Oh that's quite alright, I apologise Hermione, I find myself in my own thought sometimes."

Hermione giggled, leaning forward.

"I know the feeling! What I wanted to ask you was, what do we call you now? Would you prefer Professor McGonagall, or can I call you by your first?"

Minerva looked into the eyes of the younger witch, who had now brought her hands together and leant to one side on them. She smiled encouragingly at the elder witch, waiting for a reply.

"Minerva. Please, call me Minerva."

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Minerva stepped out into the cool evening air. She had arrived last, now she was leaving first. In the same way the cheer had come when she had arrived, a sigh had come when she announced she was leaving. The goose pimples that had raised on her skin when she entered the pub stayed with her, but not due to the warmth. _Love is a mutual feeling._ She strode up the cobbled road, staggering slightly as the cold air hit her lungs making her head swim from the scotch. _It is a feeling of loyalty and truth, a feeling that is as if no one could feel but you._ She apparated back to Hogwarts, desperate for her bed. _It has no boundaries, no limitations and is open and grand._ Hermione had grown into a stunning woman, no longer the girl Minerva had once known. She had taken Minerva by shock, and the touch of her foot had made Minerva realise that this was dangerous. _It bears happiness and sadness._ She thought she had been able to control these feelings for a long time now. _Difficulty and ease._ But Hermione had proved her wrong. _And is the joy and bane of life._ Minerva collapsed into bed and wept, overcome by a feeling she knew she could not act upon. She recited her Mothers words, until she fell into a restless slumber.

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_A/N: Hope you enjoy! Let me know?_


	3. Chapter 3

_I own none of these characters, only the way in which my imagination portrays them!_

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**Chapter Three.**

Minerva arose with a headache threatening to burst her skull, both from the drinking of the previous evening and her turmoil of emotions. She refused to let anything get the better of her, swinging her legs out of bed and covering herself in her warm tartan dressing gown. She traipsed across the bedroom into her bathroom, her footsteps falling in time with the ever persistent pounding in her head. When the shower had begun to run hot, Minerva quickly undressed herself, breathing out short, sharp breaths in a reaction to the cold air that prickled her skin.

Oh how she loved her morning showers; feeling the warm water trickle down her back, the first initial droplet too hot but once the skin had adjusted, was the perfect treat. Minerva let the water wash over her body, cleansing her of the night before. Her eyes still sore from crying, she washed her face and smiled contentedly; she could do this, without hurting herself or others. All she had to do was get on, like everything else in her life. She had sacrificed so much, one more thing would not break her.

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The morning had gone particularly quickly; after answering a few notes, a Professors meeting, running personal errands at Hogsmeade, bumping into Kingsley, teaching a lesson and lunch, Minerva finally slumped herself behind her desk to mark the third years 'Transfiguration: Mind over Matter?' essay's. As she reached for her quill, she noticed a small, yellow envelope had been flopped onto her desk. It had neat, curly handwriting on the outer, simply reading: Minerva. This handwriting; the black ink, the obvious precision of letters, the line gently scratched underlining her name, the dotting on the 'i' and the curve of the 'm', they were all familiar traits of a certain witch that Minerva used to teach. She sat frozen, stunned at the unexpected surprise that lay silently on her desk. Replacing her quill in the ink pot, she stretched out a hand and smoothed the envelope, tracing the inked letters carefully with her fingers. She picked it up gently, tore the seal and unfolded the piece of parchment within:

Dearest Minerva,

I do hope this finds you well, especially after last night's festivities, I know that I am certainly feeling the effects!

I am writing in a request that I come and join you this evening at Hogwarts. I know this to be of short notice but I start an important investigation for The Ministry tomorrow and shan't have a moment on my hands, I know you'll understand this. It has been such a long time since we have all seen you and thought you may need some company – It's good for you!

See you at 6,

Yours

Hermione Granger

Minerva stared down at the words, unblinking. She licked her lips, unable to move anything else. She sank back into the massive chair, having become rigid with the anticipation, unable to form anything but an astounded guffaw. She read, and re-read the note, unbelieving that she had been plunged into such a situation without having a say in the matter. It was just past 1 in the afternoon, and Hermione Granger was coming here, to meet with Minerva McGonagall for social purposes, at 6PM. Nothing could have been more absurd.

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Minerva paced her office up and down for the remainder of the afternoon, wanting to send a note to Hermione telling her not to come. She would recoil from the thought, wishing not to be rude to a girl who had shown such brash kindness as to keep her company. Looking at the clock, and being able to wait not one minute longer, she wrapped her outer cloak around her shoulders and bolted out through the door. She strode quickly through the corridors of the castle, avoiding eye contact with anyone in fear of striking up conversation and being late. She felt ill, her heart beating wildly and a lump protruding in her throat. Her stomach was tight and aching, her head still a dull pain. Her fists were clenched into a tight ball, her nails digging into the tender skin on her palm leaving tiny read semi-circles on the otherwise pale skin. _Pull yourself together woman, _she thought, as she finally came to the spot in sight of the gates where Hermione would enter. Minerva stamped her feet and rubbed her hands together, her breath causing billowing clouds of smoke to escape from her mouth. Her eyes never leaving the gates, she finally saw the familiar figure of the awaited witch. Minerva caught herself smiling stupidly, and scolded herself mentally for it. Hermione raised her hand, waving shortly then fastening her pace. Minerva too walked to meet her, feeling awkward just standing and waiting.

"Minerva." Hermione smiled, stopping before looking her former Professor up and down, then reaching her arms out for a friendly embrace.

As Minerva received the hug, warmth spread throughout her, a sigh escaping from her lips. After realising she had settled slightly into Hermione, she pulled back eagerly,

"Hermione, dear, how lovely it is to see you."

"And you, I'm so glad you were able to accept my invitation at such short notice. I thought I would come to you, I know how much Hogwarts ties you down."

Minerva looked into the brown eyes of the woman opposite her, realising her selflessness and sincerity. She smiled curtly,

"Thank you, Hermione, that is very kind."

The younger witch gave her a beaming smile, and they proceeded to walk next to each other into the warmth and light of the castle.

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Minerva watched all night as Hermione made conversation with all of her former Professors. The youngest witch had seated herself next to Minerva, catching eye contact every now and then and giving her a wide smile. Hermione's eyes twinkled in the lighting of the Great Hall, her dark brown hair shining. She laughed with the Professors, reminiscing about her school days, Hermione revealing secrets about the students and what they got up to. And Minerva had laughed too; it had been too long since the last time. People began to excuse themselves from the table, retreating for an early night, until only Minerva and Hermione were seated at the long table. Awkwardly, Minerva looked at Hermione, catching her eye and smiling; she desperately didn't want to push the girl away, but knew it dangerous to invite her back for more time.

"Can I come up for a cup of tea? I'm gasping..."

Hermione began to throw her napkin on the table and stand up before Minerva had even answered. The decision being made for her, Minerva stood from her chair to escort Hermione to her private quarters.

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The two women in the large, tall standing lounge chatted as if they had never been apart. The room was lit with long stem candles and kept warm by a roaring fire centred on the far wall. Their voices echoed back and forth for hours, neither one knowing nor much caring about the time. Smiles creased their faces and laughs escaped from their mouths.

"Another tea, dear?" Minerva smiled, wiping a tear away from her eye from laughing so hard.

"No, thank you, I'd love to but I really must go."

Minerva had a sinking feeling in her heart; She felt her face fall and a sigh coming from her stomach, but she managed to suppress it.

"Of course. The Ministry cannot go without their star woman." She smiled and began to walk Hermione to the door.

Minerva turned with her hand on the door knob to see Hermione still standing in the middle of the room, her arms by her side and a smile tugging weakly at her lips. Minerva looked at the woman before her: No longer a mere pubescent girl addicted to her studies, with bushy hair, slightly bucked teeth and an annoyance to be correct in every individual situation, this woman was collected, elegant and poised, she practically glowed with ease and grace. Hermione walked towards Minerva, the elders heart beating to within an inch of its life. She dropped her hand off of the door knob and stood to face the younger witch.

"Thank you, Minerva. I've had a very lovely time." Hermione whispered, and placing her hands on Minerva's shoulders, she leant forward and gently pressed her lips against Minerva's own.

For a second, the whole world seemed to come to a stand still. Minerva's eyes stayed open, her body became rigid, her head receded back as much as it could, but still Hermione managed to plant a friendly kiss on her lips. Hermione pulled away as quickly as she had come forth, and with a smile and a wave, she was gone.

Minerva closed the door behind her, her head reeling for what had happened. She knew Hermione to be friendly, the girl greeted and said farewell to her best friend Ginny Weasley in exactly the same fashion. She sat on the sofa, brought her hands to her face and covered her eyes; she hated the way she had turned out, she hated the feelings she had for Hermione, but somehow all at the same time it was the most wonderful thing in the world, the best feeling you Minerva could ever have imagined. Yes, to Hermione, that kiss had been nothing but a simple goodbye, but to Minerva, it meant so much more. Minerva looked to the ceiling, biting her lip as she fought back tears; she wanted to forget it all, but she knew she wouldn't be able to. Gathering herself, she stood up from the sofa with a large sigh, catching something on the table that sat opposite and knocking it to the floor. Minerva looked to see a yellow envelope, identical to the one on her desk earlier that afternoon, reading: Dearest M.

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_A/N: Sorry this has taken a long time guys, let me know what you think!_


	4. Chapter 4

_I own none of these characters, only the way in which my imagination portrays them!_

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**Chapter Four.**

The night was still and silent. A half moon floated in the black sky covering the castle in a bright, white light. It shone through the windows, illuminating the rooms where tired witches and wizards snoozed. One witch lay wide awake on her back, staring blankly upward in her four-poster bed. A letter placed on her bed side table un-opened; She turned her head to look at the paper envelope for the tenth time that hour, wanting to open and read the unknown contents but knowing it best not to. She reached for it and gently brought it to her chest, the edges flittering as her heart knocked through her ribcage against the yellowy parchment. She looked at the inscription for the last time, and placed it beneath her pillow.

Minerva awoke startled, sitting bolt upright in bed. Her head swam with hyperventilation, a sweat all over her body soaking her bed clothes. She sat back sighing and biting her lip: It had been Hermione who she had been dreaming of, a steamy sort of situation. It had been wonderful at the time, but now, sitting alone in bed, Minerva hated it with all of her being.

Getting up for her usual morning shower and returning, feeling better for the cleanliness, she began to dress her usual teaching robes. Minerva caught sight of herself in the full length mirror that covered one of her wardrobe doors just as she was buttoning up the last of her emerald over-robes. Staring at herself, she touched her neck with her slender fingers and dragged them down toward her cleavage. Bringing the same hand to her face, she smoothed her cheek with the back of it, made a line across her top lip with her index finger and touched the other cheek with her palm. She had become old, and although her tall, slim figure from her youth had stayed with her, her body showed signs of an ever ageing woman. A tear dropped suddenly from the sparkling green eyes taking her by surprise: She was too late for love.

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After another long day, Minerva finally made her way through the door of her private quarters, thankful that a fire had already been lit by the house elves. She unclipped her bun, her greying hair swooping down just above her bottom. She ran her fingers through it, ruffling and massaging her scalp. Moving through the living room, the candles striking a flame as she silently asked them to, Minerva padded her way into her bedroom to slip into her evening gown. She hung the emerald robes back in place, catching herself in the mirror again. She looked away immediately, swooping round to busy herself. And there it lay, the yellow envelope she had tried to forget all day. It dented the middle of the bed, and without thought Minerva picked it up and tore it open. A smile broadened on her face as she read the all too familiar writing

Dear Min,

I would like to thank you for your company last night, it is my hope that you enjoyed it as much as I. The Ministry is forever baring down on me, its private inquest I am working on forever on my mind. I love Ron and Harry and Ginny dearly, but I know that you understand the most. It is why I write this letter, to ask if you would come to my apartment Monday week for a drop of wine and a chat - I'm worried I shall go insane otherwise! You helped me so much through my OWLS and NEWTS, I'm now lacking your expert advice on my job. Please reply in writing, my owl will be waiting.

Your dear friend,

Hermione Granger

It was becoming almost humorous to Minerva how Hermione had somehow been able to stun her into silence yet again. She rested upon the edge of the four poster bed, her heart in her throat. Her young friend was asking for her help, her 'expert advise' on an all too knowingly difficult job, Hermione obviously needed Minerva...could she really refuse?

Hermione,

I am writing in response to the letter you kindly sent me – It would be an honour to join you in your time of need. Due to the ever demanding job as Headmistress, however, I shan't be able to join you until 8 in the eve; I do hope this suits your schedule.

Forward an address whenever you have time, I send my best wishes for the upcoming week in your heavy duty plans.

Take Care,

Minerva McGonagall

As she folded the parchment, slipped it into and envelope and wax sealed it with the McGonagall crest, Minerva's heart fluttered and she shook her head in disbelief of her own actions. As Hermione had stated, her owl had been waiting patiently outside of Minerva's bedroom window. Watching it take flight, she thought of the girl, and of her mother, whispering, "Oh, Hermione..."

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The week had dragged, but as Minerva began the walk to Hogsmeade so as to apparate, it seemed to have gone much too fast for her liking. She had both looked forward to and dreaded the evening she would spend with Hermione, frightened by the feelings that may arise. She wanted more than anything to have a nice, quiet, relaxed evening with the young girl, and that's what she intended on doing. Walking a little more briskly, determined that her mind could conquer any feeling, she passed the shops into a quiet alley and turned on the spot.

As Minerva felt ground under her feet again, she drew a rasping breath. She leant against a near by lamp post and clutched her chest; it had been much too long since she had apparated, the closed and encasing feeling of suffocation frightening and stunning her more than usual. Taking slow steps as her breath returned to normal, and making a mental note to apparate more, she headed down a narrow street with high buildings. It was dark now, the yellow street lamps giving the world an unusual greyish hue.

"Number 8A, third row along." Minerva whispered to herself, pulling out the piece of parchment Hermione had written her address on from her breast pocket inside her robes.

Sure enough, third row along, a door was in sight. Rushing to it, she tried to open it, but to no avail. To her left was a small silver box; a circle made out of tiny dots sat upon it, with numbers below it. Reading through the list, she finally came to '8A', smiling that she had found the right address.

"I would like access to 8A, please." Minerva spoke into the dotted circle.

When no reply came, her brows furrowed in confusion. Looking down at the numbers again, a small white button sat next to '8A', and with much nervousness, Minerva pressed it. A low, quiet bell rung once, to be greeted with a cheery demeanour,

"Hello, 8A?"

"Hermione?" Minerva wondered out loud,

"Oh, Minerva! Hey!"

"Hermione, are you in that box?"

"No, no, Minerva. It's a telecom device, there's a wire that enables you to hear my voice... Look, it's freezing out there, come on up-"

"But I can't get in, the door is locked!"

"Try again! I've unlocked it!"

Sure enough, when Minerva tried the door again, with much doubt she must admit, it creaked open.

"My goodness, however did you do that?" She shouted back to the silver box, but Hermione didn't reply. Instead, Minerva heard shoes clopping down the stairs that stood before her at a fast pace, until finally the young witch with brunette curls all over her face and warm brown eyes came bouncing down to meet her.

Giggling slightly at the sight of Hermione, her muggle clothes of a black roll neck top and tight jeans, her hair awry as always, her face lit up in an elated pleasure to see her, Minerva found herself impounded by Hermione's embrace. She held the girl gently, swallowing hard on her emotions.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered, eyes shut as she held onto her former Professor tightly.

She pulled back and took Minerva's face in her hands,

"I'm so glad you've come."

The last time they had been in this position, Minerva had received a kiss. Tonight, however, Hermione moved away, receding up the stairs and beckoning for Minerva to follow. It had felt strange to not have the feel of the young ones soft, warm lips to her own, and Minerva felt disheartened.

"Not far to go now." Hermione panted as they reached the third floor.

She led them down a dark corridor, where the lights lit as you walked beneath them, then turned off shortly after you had left them. Jangling her keys, Hermione fumbled with the lock and held the door open to Minerva.

Sheepishly peeping in, then stepping inside the small flat, Minerva immediately felt homely and comfortable. It was quant with a modern twist, quite what she would have expected of Hermione. The living room and dining was open plan, a small kitchen set off to the side. A corridor to the right indicated bathroom and bedroom.

"Let me take your cloak." Hermione whispered, unclasping Minerva's broach and pushing it off of her shoulders. Minerva stepped further into the living room, a bottle of red wine and two large glasses already set out on the coffee table sat in front of the settee.

Minerva rubbed her hands together, both to allow feeling back into them and to avoid awkward eye contact with the young witch whom was returning from the coat stand.

"Wine? You _can_ sit down, Minerva. It's my home, I want you to feel welcome, please make yourself comfortable." Hermione said, uncorking the bottle and pouring lusciously red liquid into the large glasses.

Minerva sunk into the sofa, crossing her legs and sighing as she closed her eyes in contentment.

"That's better." Hermione smiled, lifting Minerva's hand to capture the glass.

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"But the point is, regardless of intellect or not, common sense surely is the best way forward to our solution." Hermione argued, taking a large sip from her glass.

"I know, but sometimes people can't be convinced by sense, dear." Minerva answered, looking at the young witch now slumped down in the armchair adjacent to the settee.

"I know, but why! Why must people be so difficult?" She asked gruffly filling her glass again, much like that of an angry 4 year old who hadn't got an ice cream. Minerva laughed at the delightful frown that had crossed Hermione's face, and knowing she had got a little caught up in the moment, Hermione laughed too.

"It's an interesting conversation, isn't it: people?" Hermione pondered, "I mean, everyone is different, everyone is special in their own way. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and all that..." She began to refill Minerva's glass, "I expect you've met a few odd ones in your time at Hogwarts, me included! God, all those nights I spent revising-"

"Oh, Hermione! How could you say such a thing?" Exclaimed Minerva; Hermione stopped pouring the wine, "You are an exceptional young witch, with talents beyond any I know. I have seen you flourish from a smart little girl to a bright and attractive young woman. You are kind and helpful to others, you take all burden and responsibility from your friends, you were and still are my model student, the very person I mark my current students against. It was an honour you were sorted into Gryffindor, for you to be under my wing." Hermione's face grew ever redder, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

She'd placed the bottle down half way through Minerva's speech, resting her elbow on her knees and leaning her chin on her hand. Silence fell between them, the fire crackling quietly.

"I'm not sure what to say, Minerva. Thank you..." Hermione whispered, as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She laughed at her foolishness and continued to pour the wine.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, I didn't mean to upset you." Minerva said, barely audibly. To see Hermione's eyes grow larger and glossier with tears was heart wrenching. It took her whole will to stop her from moving closer and holding the young witch tighter than ever before. She'd tried to stop the blurb from coming out, feeling it rise from her stomach, into her chest and out through her vocal chords. It felt so right to say those things about Hermione, meaning every word that had escaped from her mouth.

"It's alright, you didn't upset me." Hermione replied, standing up and stretching, then moving onto the settee next to Minerva.

She placed a hand on Minerva's crossed leg, which made the elder witch twitch slightly. Her breathing became shorter and her heart hammered, but she tried to ignore her bodies reaction.

"Just surprised, that's all."

"Why choose to be surprised?"

"Well, I suppose... I didn't know I was that significant to you." Hermione answered honestly.

"Then, perhaps, I should rethink how smart you are." Minerva smiled.

"Perhaps you should." Hermione laughed.

"You are significant to me, Hermione. And very special, indeed."

"As you are to me, Minerva. I don't think I know anyone quite like you"

"Is this a good thing?"

"Absolutely grand." Hermione replied, squeezing Minerva's knee.

Without warning, and no time for Minerva to react, Hermione had leant her head upon the elder's shoulder and barely kissed the small amount of neck that was accessible. Minerva's eyes widened as Hermione rested on her, oblivious to the effect this was having on her. Minerva closed her eyes and bit her lip, reminded of the steamy dream she'd had the night before last; it seemed nearly every other night they occurred. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, which Hermione seemed to ignore.

Minerva could hear Hermione's breathing becoming deeper, a sure sign she was falling asleep. Awfully uncomfortable, her senses heightened from the contact, Minerva shifted slightly which woke Hermione. She made a noise in her throat of protest then added sleepily,

"Would you like to stay the night?"

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_A/N: Sorry this has taken so long guys, I promise I'll try harder! hope you like, let me know!_


	5. Chapter 5

_I own none of these characters, only the way in which my imagination portrays them!_

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**Chapter Five.**

The words seemed to ring through Minerva's head, bouncing off of the back of her skull and back through her ears. _"Would you like to stay the night?"_; that is indeed what Hermione had asked, but in no way on Merlin's beard could she do so.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I really ought to get back to Hogwarts..."

"Oh yes, of course, you must..." Hermione answered, getting up giddily from the settee. Minerva watched her stumble over the coffee table, Hermione standing still to catch herself but still swaying slightly.

"Ooh, my head..." She complained, placing her palm to it and squeezing.

"Are you alright dear?" Minerva asked, setting down her glass and walking to Hermione's side.

The young witch leant on Minerva with her arm, smiling weakly,

"I will be fine, just a tad too much to drink."

As Hermione slowly shuffled her way over to the cloak stand, Minerva observed her. Her rounded bottom was accentuated beautifully by the tight fitting jeans, her hips swaying only slightly due to her shuffling. The tight fitted jumper showed the curve of her thighs and the inward shape of her stomach and breasts. Her arms were by her side and her shoulders hunched up toward her ears as if she were cold. Her long hair laid elegantly down her back, the tips curling upwards. Minerva was entranced; she couldn't have even tried to stop the words from coming out of her mouth,

"Hermione. You are in no state to be left alone. I shall see you to bed and then leave."

Minerva knew that she'd done the wrong thing for her feelings, but the right thing for Hermione; The elder witch would have felt more than guilty for leaving the woman in such a sorry state.

"Oh, good..." Hermione smiled again, "Tea?"

Stumbling toward the kitchen and Minerva catching her, she replied,

"No, you sit down, and I will make the tea..."

* * *

The kettle was nearly at boiling point, which meant Minerva would soon be in Hermione's company once more. Making the tea had given her a chance to be alone with her thoughts, to be able to collect and bury any feelings toward Hermione. After a few attempts at getting Hermione to the settee, Minerva thought it best to just get her into bed. _This is a simple procedure, Min, just see her to bed, make sure she is safe, and away with you, _she thought to herself, _after all, that's why you stayed, it wasn't anything to do with the fact you couldn't function due to the indescribable beauty of her..._ She shook her head, wishing to no longer have this conversation with herself. The kettle finally clicked off, and Minerva began to pour the steaming water into the two mugs she'd finally managed to find. Not being used to making tea in a muggle like fashion, it took her another 5 minutes to find the milk, when she heard,

"Minnie?"

Hermione. Calling from her room. _Minnie._ _Oh God_.

"Yes?"

"Are you alright in there? Only you've been rather a while!"

Minerva closed her eyes in frustration, her hands either side of the two cups on the cool, marbled kitchen surface. Her teeth clenched and breathing heavily through her nose, she managed to pick up the two cups, switch the light off and walk down toward the bedroom.

Holding both cups with one hand, Minerva tapped on the door 3 times.

"Come in, you didn't need to knock." Hermione laughed quietly. She'd managed to pull on a night dress, a blue grey colour with thin straps. Her clothes pooled on the floor at the end of her double bed, obviously disregarded for much comfier night clothes.

"Here we are." Minerva smiled, placing a mug into Hermione's hand.

She watched Hermione breath in the steam billowing from the mug and take a sip, humming shortly in her throat and smiling with gratitude. Minerva's eyes wondered to the girls thin milky shoulders, her neck harbouring a brown beauty mark on the left. Her short but slender fingers wrapped around the mug in a hug like fashion, appreciating the warmth the cup gave in return. Realising she'd been gaping at the woman for a while now, and Hermione was watching her do so, Minerva nervously avoided the situation;

"How're you feeling?"

"Better for you being here." Hermione answered, placing the mug on her bedside table.

Minerva folded away her curiosity of what that answer truly meant, and instead sipped from her cup. When she returned eye contact with Hermione, the young witch was staring at her.

"Do you like my night dress, Minerva?" She asked, shuffling forward slightly.

"Mmm, yes, it's a very nice colour..." Minerva replied raising her eyebrows, panicked by the question.

"Do you not like the way it reveals my shoulders just so?" Hermione asked in a low tone, slipping the right strap off her shoulder and looking down on it.

Minerva leapt off the bed and turned to face away, rubbing her forehead with hand on hip. _What did the woman think she was doing?_

"Do you not even like the way it finishes just below my thigh?" Hermione enquired in an innocent tone.

Minerva turned slowly to see Hermione now out of bed, the sheets folded back perfectly, her knee popped slightly inward. Her hair was around her breasts, the strap she had lowered still in its place. She looked upon Minerva with dilated pupils, her fingers curling slightly.

"Hermione, I think I ought to-"

"Minerva. Please."

Hermione began to walk toward Minerva, who in turn backed away against the wall. The youngest witch out stretched her hand for the elders, and with great hesitation, it was met. Hermione led them to the bed and sat them on the edge. Minerva was perspiring; her breathing heavy and a warmth had spread immediately to her nether regions, tingling her senses.

"Just, relax, ok? For me?" Hermione looked longingly into Minerva's eyes, which sent the elders heart beat reeling.

With a sigh and a pause, Minerva awkwardly replied with an unconvincing smile,

"Ok."

Hermione picked Minerva's right hand up gently with both of hers, looking at it like a puzzle. She closed her eyes as her mouth descended on the little finger, the skin smooth and warm from the tea. Minerva gasped and placed the other hand to her chest as Hermione gently and tantalisingly kissed each finger in turn, leaving no strip of skin untouched. Turning the hand over, Hermione began to kiss Minerva's palm, running her nose along the creased lines that splay across it. Minerva was fighting with herself, wanting this so much but hating it all. It was against every rule she'd ever made and promised to herself, but the feel of the young girls tongue slipping in between her fingers gently sent her mind reeling with any logical thought, letting a moan escape from her mouth. Hermione placed the hand she'd been ministering to on her shoulder, straddled Minerva and pushed her back onto the bed. With the feeling of feathered duvet around her, and the sight of Hermione over her, Minerva could all but shake her head.

"I know you want to, Minerva," Hermione began, lowering herself to whisper in Minerva's ear intermitted with kisses on her lobe, "I wouldn't try to otherwise. I see the way you look at me... Let yourself have what you want for once."

Minerva moaned in approval; no coherent words could come to her right now. Hermione threw her head back to free her face from her curly, bushy hair, clearing Minerva's face of the wispy strands that had loosened from her bun. She kissed Minerva on the forehead, and sat up, pulling the night gown over herself to reveal her breasts and lace underwear. Minerva could see a silhouette with a bright white light bursting behind it. It wasn't until she propped herself up on her elbows that Hermione was revealed to her.

With a little "Oh" escaping from her lips, and Hermione smiling, she was instructed to move up the bed toward the pillows. As she went to lay down for the second time, Hermione stopped her. Minerva wondered what she had done wrong, until Hermione reached up behind the elders head and unclasped all of the clips to let her hair fall free. As the last clip was released she shook her had gently to release the wavy locks.

"Lovely." Hermione smiled, as she began to undo the buttons on Minerva's outer robe.

Minerva led back into the soft pillow, taking a deep breath in and sighing it out. Years she had fought with her emotions, only for Hermione, in one evening, to have it all come tumbling down.

When only in her bra and underwear, Minerva began to panic; she was ashamed of her body in front of such a young and attractive thing. She began to cross her arms over her stomach as Hermione kissed her thigh, catching the young girls eye. Hermione gave a tut.

"Do not be ashamed Minerva. I will not judge you. You are a beautiful woman." Hermione brought herself level with Minerva, kissing her softly and slowly on the lips. Minerva's hands slipped off of her stomach to run through Hermione's hair, down her back and onto her bottom. Hermione brought a hand up to one of Minerva's breasts, eliciting a gasp of air that rushed from Minerva's lungs out into the bedroom. The younger witch slipped her hand inside the bra, cupping the flesh and massaging the nipple with her thumb.

"Oh, God." Minerva gasped, able for the first time in 15 minutes to find words. She was aware she was making funny noises, ridiculous faces, breathing as if she had run a mile. But right now, that was the least of her worries. As Hermione played with her tenderly, Minerva too became confident. She rubbed Hermione's back in appreciation, squeezed her bottom when something felt exceedingly good.

"More, oh, please Hermione, more..." Now sat up, she whispered into the ear of the woman who was gyrating slowly on her lap.

Hermione released the clasp on Minerva's bra, allowing her bosoms to fall freely from the fabric. The pebbles nestled in the middle of her breasts had hardened, the release of the friction of the fabric making her shiver with pleasure. Hermione began to suck at the nipple she had left, rolling her tongue around it like a lolly pop, gripping it with her teeth making Minerva inhale sharply. She unconsciously widened her legs as Hermione began to trail kisses down her chest and into her navel, where she nuzzled her jaw bone against it before nipping lightly at the soft and tender skin.

"You haven't been eating properly." Hermione whispered, smoothing Minerva's hip. It was true; The Headmistress hardly had any time on her hands, and when it did come to meal times she didn't have an appetite. Her hips jutted out now, something that had only happened when she lost her appetite during her OWL examinations as a teenager. Tracing the line of the bone, Hermione began to kiss it tenderly, as if she were healing, placing back what should be there. Smoothing down Minerva's thigh, Hermione came to her final resting place. She touched her chin lightly on Minerva's pubic bone, the elders fists now scrunching the duvet. Minerva felt as if she were about to explode, her organ aching to be touched. Every blood cell was rushing to that domain, it throbbed with wanton desire. Minerva arched her back as Hermione pulled down her knickers, over her legs and nuzzled her nose against the top of Minerva's opening, kissing the lips that encased the pounding folds of flesh.

"Oh! Uh!" Minerva shouted, louder than she thought she would have, desperate to feel Hermione close to her again. Instead, a warm air penetrated her pubic hair, and a slick, velvety something slid its way into Minerva. She grunted loudly, moaning long and hard until her chest hurt. Hermione waited for Minerva to stop, allowing her breath to become less painful. She felt Hermione repeat the process again, although hanging very slightly on her all too sensitive nub. She jumped at the pleasure it gave her, leaving the mattress and coming back down with a thump, arching her back and grunting loudly over and over again. Hermione looked up to her and smiled, stopped, and waited again for Minerva's breathing to return to normal. Once again, Minerva felt the same, hot trickling feeling, only this time to slide down, into her swollen centre, pushing past the boundary and into her body. Minerva's mouth hung open as she let out continual moans as Hermione slowly massaged her aching organ with her tongue. The younger witch pushed the elders legs wider, causing Minerva to groan in a higher pitch due to increased pleasure.

"_Gràdh, a rithist, mas e bhur toil e._" Minerva whispered, her legs beginning to shake with the ever increasing pressure threatening to erupt. Her hips ground slowly against Hermione's sensually slow movements, Minerva's hands reaching down and playing with the young woman's silky soft hair. Hermione slid out of Minerva and placed more attention to her hardened nub, Minerva now shouting in her Gaelic language. Her hips thrust fervently as Hermione's tongue swirled around her, the most amazing feeling she had ever had in her entire life's experience. Hermione began to hum against her, the vibrations sending Minerva mad with satisfaction. Her head was thrust right back into the pillow, her hands had returned to fisting the sheets, Hermione's hand gently massaging her right bosom. As her orgasm mounted she closed her eyes tightly, fighting to push air from her lungs. She managed to squeak "Hermione", who had luckily pulled away and began rubbing Minerva with her fingers in time. As her orgasm pulsed through her, she let out sobs of air mixed with moans. She breathed loudly as it stopped, opening her eyes wide. Seeing stars before her, she lolled her head sideways.

"Are you alright, Min?" Hermione asked, although Minerva thought it sounded as if she were a distance away.

Minerva looked lazily toward Hermione, who had now joined her by her side, nodding and smiling weakly. Looking at the woman, she could see her cheeks were flushed, her lips full from being used, a slight rash covering her chest. Her breasts were racing up and down, all signs Minerva knew too well as arousal. The elder woman pushed herself heavily onto her side, her joints beginning to ache after the physical movements just made, pulling Hermione to her.

Tracing the curve of Hermione's hip, Minerva slipped her hand beneath the young woman's underwear. It was hot and wet, and slipping her fingers in, Hermione made a low growling sound. She bucked up against Minerva slowly, tossing her head back then bringing her eyes to meet the elders. She leant into Minerva, whispering in her ear "More, more, more..." with every grinding thrust. Minerva slid her fingers inside Hermione, penetrating her walls and rubbing her nub with her thumb. Her left hand was at the small of Hermione's back, pushing gently and encouraging her gyrating hips. Minerva bit down hard on her lip and closed her eyes, her own arousal becoming a dull ache once more. Hermione's moans became whimpers, asking to be released, and with one final slide of Minerva's fingers, Hermione's orgasm almightily came with a thunderous mix of cries and moans of pleasure. As she leaned against Minerva, Hermione's breaths became deeper once more, and sleep took her over. Suddenly, almost as if an electric shock had been sent through her, Minerva came to her senses. _You stupid woman_, she thought, slowly lowering Hermione back onto the bed so as not to wake her. She summoned her clothes, dressed herself quickly and left.

As she walked the quiet alley way, tears began streaming down her face. She looked back to 8A, where she knew Hermione would be sleeping, blissfully unaware of her departure. She placed a hand over her heart, scrunching the velvet over coat she wore in a bid to relieve the pain that overwhelmed her chest. _How could you let yourself go like that, all of these years you have let nothing stand in your way. You can control this, and you didn't. What would Mother say?_ Her mind ranted all the way back to Hogwarts, as she trudged back into her rooms and to her bed. _How could you have taken advantage of such a young woman when she needed you emotionally. She'd had too much to drink and probably wasn't aware of what she was doing. Now you've got yourself into a right mess, haven't you? Haven't you?_

"Yes, yes, I know, please stop..." She murmured to herself as tears silently streamed rivers down her now pale face.

She stripped herself of her clothes, the garments still smelling of Hermione, and crawled into bed naked. Curled into a foetus position, she punished herself mentally for the ashamed things she had done that night until the sun began to rise.

* * *

_A/N: Told you I would try harder, I just hope you guys liked it! Please let me know? (Just to let you know, this isn't the end, I don't want any disappointed readers out there!)_


	6. Chapter 6

_I own none of these characters, only the way in which my imagination portrays them!_

* * *

**Chapter Six.**

It had been an awful and long night; after 4 hours of trying to sleep and being completely unsuccessful, Minerva decided to get out of bed. Her hips and thighs aching from the nights excursions, she paced the four walls of her bedroom for a half an hour, until she began to feel dizzy and needed a rest on the bed. Perching at the end, her left hand entwined around the oak post that was raised high, she began to sob. She placed her right hand over her mouth to muffle the cries of pain that ruptured from her lips, her forehead hurting from the frown that was causing tears to gush from the emerald eyes. The witch rocked back and forth slowly, drawing in deep gulps of air, her shoulders shuddering as she grieved.

"Stop this, Minerva McGonagall," She suddenly whispered sternly, slapping her hands on her thighs, "This is not you."

And standing from the bed, she glided to the bathroom, where her morning shower awaited her.

* * *

"Are you quite alright, Minerva?" Poppy asked, placing a gentle hand on the Headmistress' forearm.

"Sorry Poppy? Oh, yes..." Minerva replied, waving her hand in the air as dismissal.

She saw the concerned look Poppy had given her as the nurse's hand retreated back to her drink; she obviously looked haggard, otherwise Poppy wouldn't have asked. She sighed and looked around The Great Hall, her students chatting away noisily, many of them eating and drinking their weight in food, as children do. _This is where I belong._ Minerva recounted the times she had seen the three of them sitting at the Gryffindor table, laughing and eating and plotting. She remembered the two boys, typical for their age, and the young, brown haired girl, witty and vibrant in every sense. She'd greet her Professor with a look and nod every morning, every evening, as she entered The Hall. She would smile and be stern all within the same sentence, keeping her boys in line; it was her job, the reason she was part of their group.

"Will you still be requiring to see us this morning, Minerva?" Rolanda asked four chairs down as she raised to leave breakfast.

The table looked at her warmly, sympathetic smiles on their faces; Minerva thought she must really look bad.

"Very well, we will cancel for today. Until tomorrow." She smiled, following suit of her staff and leaving The Great Hall.

* * *

Minerva sat at her desk, her classroom silent and empty. The light shone brightly through the windows, warming the cool stone walls. Minerva pulled a mirror out from the second draw of her desk, bringing it up towards her face and turning to the window. Looking at her features, she inhaled sharply; dark circles encased her eyes, especially underneath where the skin was beginning to sag due to crying; her eyes were puffy and still red, even though she had performed magic on them; she was looking more pale and gaunt than usual, her cheek bones no longer high and elegant but sharp and edgy; her skin was more wrinkled too, frown and worry lines erupting over her face as she stared into the mirror. Minerva felt embarrassed, that she, a woman of her calibre and status as Headmistress', had presented herself so in front of her staff. She was the highest, the person her staff looked up to and the one to set the example. It was as if she had lost control of herself, no longer knowing who she was, and there was no means of stopping it. She sighed and smoothed the skin on her face, realising it was rough and dry too.

"I thought I might find you here."

The most angelic voice that Minerva had ever heard spoke from the doorway of her classroom, the voice that had panted in her ear and asked for more during the most delicate of situations. Minerva gasped as she looked upon Hermione, closing the door behind her. She wore witches robes of teal, flowing and graceful in velvet. She walked toward the desk slowly and sat in the place she used to occupy as a student.

"I didn't think you'd come." Minerva stated.

Hermione smiled and bowed her head down.

"I know. But I wanted to."

Minerva stared at Hermione, who in turn stared back. For a few minutes, there was silence.

"Why did you leave?" Hermione asked quietly.

"I don't think that's an appropriate thing to discuss." Minerva replied in a dismissive tone, looking down on her desk and wiping it with the palm of her hand.

"I think I know... But I want you to tell me." Hermione said, as if Minerva had never spoken.

The elderly witch continued to look down, sweeping the desk with her hand. Through her peripherals, she saw Hermione leave her chair and walk closer toward the desk.

"Why did you leave me, Min?" Hermione asked again, sincerity in her voice.

Minerva looked up into the brown eyes, her heart leaping into action. She stood from her desk briskly and walked away from Hermione, unable to look at her again. She walked the half length of the room and stopped. Hand on hip, the other on forehead, she replied,

"It was a mistake, Hermione."

"No, it wasn't." Hermione replied.

"Yes, it was!"

"No."

"How would you know?" Minerva barked, still with her back to Hermione, her hand now dropping to pinch her mouth.

"Because Minerva McGonagall doesn't make mistakes."

Minerva stood silent. It was true; She'd always been able to catch herself before something drastic happened. She closed her eyes and prayed for strength.

"I think you're scared, Min."

"I'm not!"

"Then why don't you tell me?"

"I don't want to!" Minerva shouted again, this time turning to Hermione and pushing past her to start writing her next lessons objectives on the blackboard.

Tears stung the back of her eyes as she pulled her bottom lip in to stop it from trembling. Her other hand began clenching her robe in an uncomfortable fashion, trying to rid the pain in her heart. A hand had caught hers and removed the chalk, setting it down on her desk. Hermione brought both hands together, and looked deep into Minerva's eyes.

"What's going on, Min? This is not you."

Minerva's eyes widened, looking from one large brown eye to the next. She frowned and shook her head, unable for any more words to come out. The woman in front of her was also frowning, an encouraging but worried smile playing on her lips.

"Why are you here?" Minerva asked in a whisper.

Hermione sighed and took a deep breath in that caused her shoulders to rise.

"Because I care for you. You work so hard for everybody else, you don't have a second to be you. I've been trying now for weeks to get your attention, hoping perhaps that I was helping you come round to the idea that I feel a lot for you. I didn't mean for last night to happen the way it did, I did picture it slightly more romantic than a clumsy grope due to the wine on my part. But I was quite in my right mindset, I knew what I wanted and what I was doing, I remember everything, and I do not regret anything that happened, only that you left."

Hermione paused to draw breath, although Minerva couldn't say anything.

"I've enjoyed so much spending time with you the last few weeks, and last night meant more to me than you know. You're the reason I've been smiling, been able to get on with my job that needs my assistance all hours of the day, I've been able to pull through all of that knowing that I could be with you at the end of it."

Tears now trickled down Minerva's face; such raw emotion had never been presented to her like this, an ode of care and friendship. She didn't realise she was wanted, or needed so much by the woman. She shook with nerves and shock, having to take a seat with the help of Hermione. She held her head in her hand, her heart pounding and aching with happiness and sheer terror. Hermione now crouched down in front of her, her hand still encasing one of Minerva's.

"I want to make love to you, Min." Hermione said quietly.

Minerva looked up, frowning and hardly seeing through the haze of tears, mumbling a confused,

"What?"

"Please, Min? Let me make love to you?"

* * *

Hermione had closed the heavy drapes and lit candles, giving the room a darkened, romantic glow. Minerva sat on the edge of the bed, as Hermione had instructed her to do, watching as the woman administered to her bedroom. Minerva was sure she was going to wake up any moment now, pinching herself to make sure it was real; a small, red mark came up on her palm, two dark semi-circles in the middle where her nails had dug in. It began to bleed slightly, and she smiled.

"Now then." Hermione spoke, returning to Minerva.

The elder witch looked up into Hermione's face, her curls bouncing around her cheeks. Hermione took both of Minerva's hands and squeezed them tightly.

"I don't want you running out on me this time, ok?" Hermione asked, slight worry in her voice and a sudden pleading expression flashing across her face.

And it occurred to Minerva, not only did she rely on Hermione, but Hermione relied on her too. She brought the girl close to her, holding her tightly around the waist, hearing her heart beat thrum against her ear. Minerva felt her hair release from its usual tight bun, the ends hitting the sheets of the bed. Hermione ran her fingers through it, gently massaging the scalp as Minerva let out light moans of pleasure. Minerva stood, holding Hermione close by her shoulders. Towering over the younger witch, she initiated the passionate kiss that followed. Hands roamed and felt anywhere they could, never lingering for a second on any one part; there would be time for that later. The kiss was intense but caring, both sensual and comforting. Suddenly, Hermione broke the kiss. Minerva reached behind the younger woman's head to bring her lips back to her, but Hermione placed her hand above Minerva's mouth, smiling.

"What does _gràdh, a rithist, mas e bhur toil e _mean?"

"Pardon?"

"Last time, you spoke to me in a different language, you said _gràdh, a rithist, mas e bhur toil e_, I just wondered what it meant."

Minerva, unbelieving of herself, smiled and began to laugh. She threw head back, finally remembering the incident.

"My dearest, it is Gaelic. _Gràdh, a rithist, mas e bhur toil e_ means literally, 'love, please, one more time' as there are some English words that do not translate into the Gaelic language, and the state that you put me in, I was finding words hard to come by as it was."

They both laughed, still holding each other close.

"But, what I was trying to say was: 'Please, my love, more, don't stop'."

Hermione smiled, a pink blush rising in her cheeks. Minerva began to unbutton Hermione's robes, the velvet feeling even more sensual on her finger tips. The younger witch's flesh began to show, rosy and creamy, which made Minerva's heart flutter and her head reel. Minerva bent low to kiss Hermione's collar bone and shoulder, resting in its warmth and darkness for a short while.

"Come, Min. Let's go to bed." Hermione whispered, smiling seductively.

* * *

De-clothing took no time at all, the sheets being kicked off of the bed took even less time, the tangled mess of legs and hands and hair was immediate within seconds. Hermione led above Minerva, kissing her neck and jaw line, her hands entwined with the elders and held next to her head on the pillows. Minerva bucked up into Hermione, their naked breasts sliding and pressing against each other causing unbearably pleasurable friction. Minerva's eyes were heavy, half lidded as Hermione saw to the much needed skin that had been too long neglected. She opened her eyes to see Hermione lift her head, smiling and smoothing her cheek.

"This is you." Hermione whispered.

With an even broader smile, the young witch began to trail sweet, burning kisses down Minerva's chest. Her breasts, now aching from the contact of Hermione's, were being wetted and kissed, easing Minerva slowly into pleasure. The elders eyes shot open, and for a moment, something seemed to come over her; she brought Hermione back up to her face by the shoulders, flipped her over and straddled her hips. Minerva now lay upon Hermione, in control and enjoying it. She began eagerly kissing the neck of the witch, squeezing her hips with both hands, suddenly needing to feel reality. She bit lightly at the soft, youthful skin, a rash now appearing where she'd administered. Minerva worked her way up to Hermione's ear, the woman beneath now groaning quietly and low in her throat. Using her tongue, Minerva caressed the skin that was now so open to her: She'd imagined this in her steamy dreams, for her to be the seducer and Hermione to give in to her every bidding. She dug her nails into Hermione's hips again, eliciting a sharp gasp to leave Hermione's mouth.

"Min, slower, gently, please..." Hermione pleaded, her eyes shut.

Minerva realised the damage she had done: Red marks trailed from Hermione's collar bone all the way up into her scalp, five deep purple grooves stood out from the creamy, voluptuous skin on each of her hips. The elderly witch new she had got carried away, felt stupid and worthless for being so rough with the girl for her own pleasures, and began to dismantle herself from the woman led beneath her. Hermione grabbed the waist of Minerva, pulling her forward once more. Once the elder witch was settled on the younger's hips, Hermione began to gyrate slowly beneath her, their organs pressing against one another. Minerva gasped as Hermione's face contorted in pleasure, her mouth open and her eyes screwed tightly shut. She threw her head back further, her brown curls spread across the crisp white pillows. Her hands pulled down on Minerva's hips, causing a warmth that spread from Minerva's organ, through her abdomen and up to her heart. With Hermione's guiding hands, Minerva too began to grind against the woman's hips. A sharper, more refined feeling shot through her this time, a moan shouting from her lips as Minerva tossed her head back. She lay her hands on Hermione's stomach, giving her more ground to push into Hermione, feeling the heat and wetness against her own. Hermione's hands still placed firmly on her waist, Minerva rocked until both were screaming and moaning. Removing her hand, Hermione placed it gently but firmly on Minerva's stomach. Minerva persistently ground against the hand that was making it increasingly more difficult, and finally gave Hermione a confused look. The youngest witch began to sit up on her elbows and squirm upward, Minerva lifting herself slightly so as to release her. The youngest woman finally settled herself sat upright, pillows supporting her. She brought her hands up and gestured for Minerva to come forward again. Panting and still moaning slightly from the tingling sensations that were happening below, Minerva slowly moved toward Hermione, straddling her thighs once again. Hermione drew one finger, down from Minerva's nose, past her lips, feeling her throat, chest, swirling around her tummy button, and suddenly, with no warning or hesitation, plunging gently and deeply into Minerva's swollen folds. One, two, three fingers entered her, each one making her gasp and groan until her breath was short. Her hair clung to her face as sweat dripped from her forehead, she could feel the tips bouncing against her bottom as she rocked on Hermione's hand, cupping her centre and filling it with pleasure.

Oh, how long Minerva had wanted to feel this. It had stretched in long years before Hermione was even born, back to Minerva's schools days. The loving tenderness of being with a woman, the sweet and subtle ways in which they make love, the flow of hair, the softness of skin, the understanding mixed with excitement.

"Hermione..." Minerva moaned, placing her hands on the witches shoulders to be able to ride more firmly on the hand.

Hermione's free hand had slid around Minerva, smoothing her back and cupping her rounded bottom. She felt wanted and beautiful, something she had never, ever felt. The stern, proper, long ago pronounced spinster Professor McGonagall was no more, and Minerva now sat rocking in her place. Confidence burst through her like a lightening bolt, and looking into Hermione's eyes, she saw the reflection of herself, now 20 years old again. The young girl who had kept a secret for 70 long and painful years, was now bursting through every pore on her skin. Hermione squeezed Minerva's bottom tightly, moaning quietly herself at the sight before her.

"Oh, Hermione, _gràdh_... more, more, more, harder..." Minerva panted, feeling Hermione withdraw slightly and place her thumb firmly down on the elder witches sensitive nub.

Minerva now moaned continuously, drawing breath and letting out another low groan of gratification. Her hips now bucked quicker, keeping pace with the hand that was massaging her insides and the soft flesh that caused so much pleasure to thrum through the eldest witch. She could feel herself tightening around Hermione, the familiar warmth spreading across her abdomen right down through her thighs. As the steady climb to climax began, she started to pant even louder, feeling her heart swell as the word she was forming couldn't be held in. She held Hermione's face in her hands, every grind now becoming too sensitive therefore becoming more shallow. With one, last thrust and a circling of her nub, Minerva came, her word loud and clear.

"Hermione!"

Over and over, the word burst from her, still gyrating on the ever steady hand that still lay inside of her. Finally, spent and sensitive, Minerva lay against Hermione, her chest heaving and aching. The young witch put her arms around her, summoning the bed sheets that had been disregarded in their haste. Wrapping them tightly around her and her lover, Hermione hummed quietly to Minerva, as the elder drifted off into much needed sleep.

* * *

Minerva's eyes shot open, firstly feeling the stiffness in her hips and the burning in her thighs. Then she remembered the reasoning behind why this was. She was still laying on Hermione, who was stroking her hair gently away from her face and down to the tips. The elder witch sat there for a while, too terrified to move; she didn't want it to end, waking up to this was the most wonderful thing Minerva had experienced in a very long time. Hermione kissed the crown of her head, and unable to hold the stance any longer due to the pain in her hips, she looked up into the face of her lover. Smiling vibrantly, Hermione was flushed and panting too.

"Hello, dear." She whispered, stroking Minerva's jaw.

"How long have I-"

"Only 10 minutes, not to worry." Hermione smiled.

Minerva was unable to take her eyes away from the creature that sat before her, and lengthening her long legs, she began to pull Hermione back down to a laying position. She kissed the young witch tenderly, Hermione moaning into Minerva's mouth. She played caringly with Hermione's nipple, arising to her administrations and hardening under her touch. Minerva gently suckled on Hermione's bottom lip, making the younger witch giggle delightfully, Minerva's heart expanding with the sound of it. And slowly with the hand that had been caressing the breast, Minerva smoothed down Hermione's hips and gently tickled the top of her opening. The younger witches smile soon faded, the giggle being replaced with gasps and mewling. Minerva let her finger slide down only slightly, and stopped, raising an eyebrow and smiling coyly.

"More?" Minerva whispered.

"Yes, oh god, Min, please, yes, more..."

With much delight and no haste, Minerva slowly slid her way down Hermione's lips and worked her way into the inner walls of the girl. Hermione's back arched and lifted Minerva, who began slowly gyrating in time with her fingers. Hermione wrapped a leg around Minerva's waste, meeting every thrust with her own. As they both began rocking together, Hermione moaned loudly, much more so than Minerva ever did. Her voice echoed in the dimly lit room as Minerva saw to both Hermione's opening and the pebbled flesh above that Hermione loved her to touch so much. She would scream and ask for more when Minerva touched her there, her fingers deep inside the younger woman. Her back would arch and her thighs would tremble, Minerva would play lovingly with her there, just balancing her on the threshold, making sure her climax didn't come too quickly. Minerva could feel Hermione contracting around her fingers, knowing the end was soon. Her hips sped up, but only slightly; she wanted to make love to the woman, not pound her. Hermione's mouth was open wide, the groans coming from deep within her throat. And as she climaxed, wet hot liquid spilling over Minerva's hand, she shouted,

"Oh, I love you Minerva!"

Again, her voice echoed through the room, as she panted her way through her orgasm, whispering the words once more. Minerva sat up, releasing herself from Hermione. The younger witch lay gently back into the pillows, panting with her eyes closed.

Minerva was sure she had heard the words come from Hermione's mouth, they echoed through her as they did the room. She daren't have asked Hermione to repeat it, for fear of embarrassing the young one. Her heart hammered painfully against her ribs, beginning to shake and panic. She dismantled from Hermione quickly, pulled on her dressing gown, and ran to the bathroom to vomit.

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_A/N: TBC guys, sorry for the late update! Let me know what you think!_


	7. Chapter 7

_I own none of these characters, only the way in which my imagination portrays them!_

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**Chapter Seven.**

Clinging to the white porcelain bowl, gulping air into her lungs and wiping the sweat from her brow, Minerva felt shame start to riddle her.

"_I don't want you running out on me this time, ok?"_ Hermione's words rung through her head, her brain buzzing and fuzzy with all that had happened that evening. Minerva felt emotionally drained, _how could you have let this happen again?_ Resting against the cool toilet, she closed her eyes, frowning and pursing her lips; she had done exactly what Hermione had asked her not to. But then, the woman, who writhed beneath Minerva's touch and held her so steady and sure, had declared love to the elder woman so suddenly during climax, and not once, but twice through.

Minerva hung over the toilet again, sure she was to expel the rest of her dinner from her stomach, when the door to the bathroom creaked open. Someone knelt gently down beside her, pulling her hair to one side and out of her face. She rubbed the elder witches back gently, and leant closer to her face.

"Are you alright, Min love?" Hermione asked quietly, stroking Minerva's hair away from her sweating forehead.

Minerva reached up, pulling on the chain as she closed the lid of the toilet. She rubbed her eyes fervently, sitting cross legged on the cold stone floor. Hermione got to her feet again, smoothing Minerva's crown as she passed her to the sink, wet a flannel and returned. Minerva sighed deeply as Hermione placed the flannel on her forehead, the cool water dripping slowly into her brow.

"I didn't mean to-" Minerva began.

"I know." Hermione interrupted.

"No, Hermione, you don't... Please, I have a lot to say..." Hermione sat back a little, neither affronted nor offended by the way Minerva had spoken to her. "I didn't mean to run out on you, and I don't want you thinking that the sight of you makes me feel physically ill." Hermione chuckled to herself. "It's just, a woman of my age... It's very hard to hear... Oh, goodness, Minerva, get your words out... Your sudden declaration shocked me rather. And, although I am flattered, I am afraid I cannot accept it." Minerva turned away, tears in her eyes.

"Minerva. Are you telling me, after what we have just done, after those cries and pleas and moans, after the way you touched me, teased me, that genuine act of love making, the affection in your eyes, the sureness in your thrusts, the hunger and desperation in your kisses, that tumbling into bed, pure and naked and free, both of us together, all of that, everything that happened in your bed... Was nothing to you?" Hermione now stood, pointing to the door way, but still calm and serene. "Was all of that a lie to you?"

Minerva stood shakily, leaning on the toilet for support. Her heart hammered in her chest, threatening to burst; she was convinced she would have a heart attack and die, willing it to happen knowing this would be the easiest way to end it all; the heart ache, the constant pressure, the tears, the lies, everything. She clung to her robe on her chest, breathing steadily.

"I think you should leave, dear." Minerva quietly informed Hermione.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Hermione, please-"

"Minerva, I am not leaving you. Not in this state, I care too much about-"

"Stop it! Just stop it!" Minerva burst, throwing her hands into the air in exasperation.

"Minerva, why are you so closed? After what we just shared... Why can't you tell me what's going on?" Hermione asked with a confused look on her face.

Minerva was truly fighting with herself, the voice in her head screaming at her to leave the situation right now, her heart wanting everything and nothing.

"Hermione, you are a young, vibrant woman. You have absolutely everything going for you, a wonderful job, a homely place to live, the most beautiful looks..." She hesitated, looking in the brown eyes of the youngest witch. "I am an old woman. I am Headmistress of Hogwarts, almost at the end of my time here. Oh, I have plenty of years left, but not as many as you do." Looking away, she began to pace the bathroom. "I am tired, Hermione, and I cannot keep up the facade. You have divulged the fantasies of an ageing witch, but that is all."

Hermione stood still, shaking her head, her arms by her side and her shoulders drooping.

"That's not it." The youngest witch said firmly.

"Who are you to tell me what I do and do not feel?" Minerva's fight or flight senses were kicking in suddenly, expecting Hermione to have left by now.

"Look at me." Hermione said through clenched teeth.

"What?" Minerva replied, confused and angry, still pacing up and down.

"Look at me, and tell me you don't care."

Minerva's averted eyes stayed firmly on the floor in front of her, rubbing her chin with her right hand.

"Minerva, look at me! Look at me and tell me you don't care! Look at me, and tell me everything was a lie!" Hermione shouted, her fists clenched. "Look at me, and tell me you don't love me..."

Minerva could hear the words of her Mother in her head; how her parents had wanted so much for her to marry, have children, be the housewife whilst her husband went and worked. How all of her staff had wished for her to find love with a man that could entice and look after the stern, upper-crusted Professor McGonagall. How her brother had looked when she refused his best friend, how Albus had looked when she turned away from his advances. Minerva looked up into the face of Hermione.

"I don't..."

A silence fell between them. Although Minerva hadn't finished her sentence, Hermione had swooped from the bathroom back into the bedroom, and started to get her things together. Minerva kept back sobs and cried quietly in the bathroom, as she heard Hermione start to put on her shoes. She desperately wanted to tell the dear girl what was going on in her mind, and for the first time in 70 years, Minerva had found herself starting to trust someone: Hermione. Her heart pulled at her veins as she heard Hermione start to leave her bedroom, as though all would be lost if she didn't act now. She felt her life would be forever empty without having what she'd experienced the last few weeks. So stuck between a rock and hard place, for the first time in 70 years, Minerva McGonagall finally listened to her heart.

"Wait! No, Hermione! Please! Wait!" She cried from the bathroom, stumbling into the bedroom. Hermione was stood at the door, tears in her eyes and a disappointed look upon her face. "Please." Minerva pleaded, walking slowly toward the younger witch. "Please, don't leave me." She stretched out her hand to Hermione, whom just looked at it glumly. "Hermione?".

The young witch looked upon her lover again, and turning on her heel as she left the doorway.

"Oh, God, no, please Hermione!" Minerva pleaded, following her through the door.

A dread like no other filled Minerva, as if her last breath were about to come.

Hermione stood by her drinks cabinet, her bag resting on the armchair closest to the fire. Two glasses were ready to be filled, Hermione uncorking a bottle of red wine. She poured two generously and sat by her bag, staring into the fire. Minerva walked slowly around the back of the sofa, wiping tears from her eyes, taking the glass in her hand and taking a large gulp. The red wine made her wince slightly, the sourness of the grape sending a shiver down her body. She took another sip, which seemed to taste better. Sitting on the sofa adjacent to Hermione, Minerva stared longingly at the younger witch. Her heart expanded with glory and joy; looking into her glass, she began.

"When I was 6, I realised I wasn't like many witches. I enjoyed all the usual things; dressing up, putting on dainty robes, dancing. I also enjoyed riding on brooms, swinging from trees and getting dirt on my knees looking for bugs. Hard to believe, I know, but true none the less. By the age of 8, I knew why I was different: I wasn't interested, unlike my girl friends, in boys. I didn't want to date; I didn't swoon over posters of the newest boy bands, I didn't try and get their attention by acting silly. I felt uncomfortable if a boy came too near me, putting his arm around me when we played at the park. By the age of 11, I realised my real differences: I wasn't like most witches', I didn't run after boys, and most importantly, I was attracted to girls. I liked the way their hair flowed, their hips curved... everything that a man could never be. I began to fantasise about girls at school, both my age and older, even some of my teachers. I tried so desperately to rid myself of the notions I was having, knowing my Mother, Father and Brother would disapprove, possibly even disown me. I spent my school years day dreaming of love and lust; I was young, slender, with black hair that curled beautifully. My skin was smooth, my eye lashes long, and I caught the attention of many. It was when I was 16 I had my first kiss, a young girl named Danica took me around the back of the broom shed for a quick smooch and fondle. My heart raced wildly, and as I watched the girl walk away from me, I was in love. I couldn't help myself, my fantasy becoming reality, youth and looks on my side. We kept our, what you could call 'relationship', to ourselves. We would find quiet corners of the castle, sneak out after curfew to the edge of the forbidden forest where we would make love. I'd felt ashamed and embarrassed every time we became intimate, thinking of my parents faces if they knew. Eventually over time, our elicit affair seemed too dull for Danica, and she moved on. I vowed to move on too, throwing myself into my studies. After this, I only ever kissed girls; drunken nights to them, a friendly kiss with her girl friend, but to me, so much more.

"After my studies I travelled, wishing to forget my time at Hogwarts girls. My Mother and Father disapproved of my leaving for other countries, concerned that I hadn't found a man to settle down with. I threw myself into many a woman's bed on my travels, only to leave before she woke, feeling like I wanted to die. I returned to England when my Father sent for me, Mother had fallen ill and was on her death bed. I rushed as soon as I could, and as I sat with her, her last breath drawing near, she asked if I'd found anyone to love. When I replied no, she closed her eyes, a painful upset smile on her face as she passed into the next life. And I vowed, from that day on, that I would never divulge in such acts again. I would ignore my very being, the shame and guilt too much for even me to handle. For years I hid myself away, only knowing what I truly am; a lesbian. I tried so hard Hermione..." Minerva broke into tears, Hermione now looking at her. The younger witch moved to the sofa next to Minerva and placed a gentle hand on her knee. Wiping away the tears and raising her hand, Minerva continued,

"I tried so hard to be the woman my family wanted me to be. And I am not. But only I, and now you, know that. I fear that, if I were to enter into a relationship with a witch, what people may think of me. I am Headmistress, what would parents think of coming to the school under the hand of someone like me? My staff; they will feel uncomfortable and none of the women will ever be able to talk to me alone again..."

Minerva placed a hand to her mouth, the other one had subconsciously covered Hermione's still resting on her leg.

"Minerva... Why didn't you tell me? You've been keeping this bottled up for... For 70 years?"

Minerva closed her eyes, nodding her agreement.

"Come here to me." Hermione said, opening her arms.

Minerva rested on Hermione's shoulder and wept, the younger witches arms wrapping around her shoulders and head.

"You are so stubborn. Everybody loves you for who you are, Minerva. You are intelligent, kind hearted, up-front when needed to be, caring, witty, and to me, you are beautiful. I love you Minerva, and if you'll let me, I want to try and help you." Hermione leant back to look into Minerva's face.

"You can't help me, Hermione. I am an old dog; a new trick is beyond my talents now." Minerva sat up, wiping her face once more.

"You must try Minerva. All of your family are gone now. Stop living in the past, it is time to start anew." Hermione said, rubbing Minerva's face with her hand. "We will take care of each other, and it'll just be between us until you're ready, ok?"

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_A/N: Epilogue to follow my lovelys!_


	8. Epilogue

_I own none of these characters, only the way in which my imagination portrays them!_

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**Epilogue.**

Minerva sat on her sofa, as she did most evenings, book in hand, being warmed by a roaring fire. She would have scotch on the table stationed in front of her, within arms reach, of course. Sometimes she read novels, sometimes she read factual books; it was whatever took her fancy really. Sometimes, she would sit looking at the book, not reading its words at all. Merely staring at the small letters that lined every page, her mind would wonder.

_Love is a mutual feeling. One would do anything for the other, and vice versa. It is a feeling of loyalty and truth, a feeling that is as if no one could feel but you. It has no boundaries, no limitations and is open and grand. It bears happiness and sadness, difficulty and ease, and is the joy and bane of life._

Minerva finally understood the words her Mother had drummed into her years ago as a child. So many times she repeated those words, only to find herself more confused and estranged. She couldn't understand how her emotions fitted into the equations of love.

She had taken each person aside; Molly, Poppy, Filius, Kingsley, all of the people she considered valuable in her life. She'd explained her differences, and as unbelievable as she'd found it, they had accepted her. Minerva had told the people she loved who she truly was, and it felt good.

Minerva realised, her sexuality didn't have to be a royal parade; only known by the people closest to her.

It had taken Minerva a long time to come around to the idea, but she'd finally learned to like, maybe even love the person she'd become. Her Mothers words now cherished rather than hated, as she saw how perfectly they fitted her relationship right now.

"Are you coming to bed my love?"

Hermione spoke from the doorway of the bedroom.

"Yes. I haven't been able to read knowing you were in the shower anyway..." Minerva smiled, gracefully standing and walking into the bedroom to make love to her partner once more.

**_Love is a mutual feeling. One would do anything for the other, and vice versa. It is a feeling of loyalty and truth, a feeling that is as if no one could feel but you. It has no boundaries, no limitations and is open and grand. It bears happiness and sadness, difficulty and ease, and is the joy and bane of life._**


End file.
